


A Perennial Blessing

by Ellidfics



Series: Perennial Blessing [1]
Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: F/F, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, WACs, so is steph, tony is a feminist, women's colleges
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 18:52:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1698872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellidfics/pseuds/Ellidfics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stephanie Rogers, Captain America, is the pride of Prescott College's 1940's WACS training.  That's why they asked her to deliver their commencement speech, and why she said yes.  So why is her girlfriend Tony Stark balking at going along?  And will the whole thing fall apart when an accident causes Steph to revert to the scrawny artist she was seventy years ago?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 2014 Cap-Ironman RBB and was based on Shinkonokokoro's wonderful art, which was a real inspiration (especially Tony's hair):
> 
>  
> 
> [Art Link](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/cap_ironman_2014_RBB/works/1698923)

_PRESCOTT SENIORS CHOOSE COMMENCEMENT SPEAKER_

PRESCOTT, MA - Prescott College, the nation's largest women's college, announced today that its senior class had selected Stephanie Rogers WAC '41 to speak at its commencement on the third Sunday in May. Rogers, best known as the superhero Captain America, was one of the first graduates of the Women's Army Corps officers' training class based at Prescott between 1940 and 1945, and has been counted as a Prescott alumna since her identity became publicly known ten years ago.

"We cannot imagine a better or more inspiring alumna to address our class," said senior class president Geneviere Alouidor. "Captain America may have begun as patriotic propaganda, but ever since the day she first defied orders and appeared on a battlefield in 1942, she’s been a symbol of all that a woman can accomplish, whether as a military leader, a feminist icon, or a civil rights pioneer. Having her agree to speak is a tremendous honor."

Reached for comment at her home in New York, Captain America would offer no clues to what she'll say to the rising generation. "I have fond memories of my time at Prescott, and look forward to returning to the campus," she said when approached after the weekly Avengers' press conference at the United Nations. "As for what I'll say to the graduates, it wouldn't be fair to spill the beans before I get there, would it?"

Prescott College was founded by philanthropist Sophonisba Prescott in 1876 as a degree-granting institution for “young women of sound and logical mind who wish to pursue a career in the scientific and mathematical arts.” Its list of alumnae includes some of the most distinguished female scientists and engineers of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, including astrophysicist Harriet Moses Collins 1897, pioneering African-American biologist Ofelia Cranwell 1902, and Dr. Josephine Brackman 1920, first woman to head the surgical department at Columbia-Presbyterian Hospital in New York City. The WAC training program, which predated better known programs such as the WAVES officers' courses at Smith College in Massachusetts and Hunter College in Manhattan, was instituted late in 1940 as it became more and more apparent that America would eventually be drawn into World War II. President Corrine Morrow Quesnell, who was distantly related to Army Chief of Staff George Marshall, offered Prescott as a venue for preparing American women to step into non-combat jobs and free up male Army officers for overseas duty. 

Captain America is the only WAC alumna known to have engaged in front-line combat, but the training program produced such luminaries as Brigadier General Janet Curtiss, the first woman to be promoted to the general staff, Major Alison Fortescue of the Army Nurse Corps, pioneering computer programmer Norma Collins, and journalist Constance Eliot, who won a Pulitzer Prize for her 1976 biography of Captain America, Golden Girl: Captain America and the Battle for Democracy. 

Also being honored with honorary degrees during the commencement exercises are the following distinguished women: Pia Markos '59, musician and founder of the Minneapolis Medieval Consort; Phillipa Sheldon '75, science fiction writer best known for the _Hidden Woman_ trilogy; Dana Milhouse '62, political activist and gay rights pioneer; Tanisha Stephenson-El '92, microbiologist; Senator Carey Albright '86; and industrialist Antonia Stark, also known as the superhero Ironclad….

 

The toaster dinged at 7:45 on a beautiful spring morning. 

Tony, still in the camisole and yoga pants she'd worn to bed, yawned, watched two perfectly toasted slices of 100% organic twelve grain bread somersault out of the sleek chrome prototype of Stark Homewares' next bestseller onto her plate, and reached for the butter. The bread was from a new bakery that Carol had discovered in DUMBO, and even Jarvis, normally the arbiter as to whether a product was good enough for his pantry, had nodded approvingly at the nutty taste and chewy texture 

"Quite satisfactory, Ms. Stark," he'd said after his first bite, and had made sure to add Rise & Shine Comestibles' entire product line to the Avengers' Tower regular grocery delivery before departing last week for a much-delayed vacation.

The bread was good enough not to need anything but butter, but after last night's vigorous, enjoyable, and (hopefully) calorie-burning activities with Steph, Tony had no qualms about slathering on a generous spoonful of three-berry jam. Steph had been inspired to grow raspberries, strawberries, and blueberries last summer in the Tower's rooftop garden and put up a double batch of jam after one of the old "Captain America says can for VICTORY!" propaganda posters had surfaced on _Antiques Roadshow_. It had been something of a surprise for the younger Avengers to learn that Captain America was as good in the kitchen as she was in the field, but even Peter had dropped the sarcastic hipster act at the first delicious bite.

They were almost out now - being a superhero burned calories like no one's business so it was a miracle there was any left at all - but Steph had promised to make more when this year's crop of fruit was ready. Tony took a bite, smiling to herself as she imagined how good it would taste on ice cream, or bread pudding, or Steph's lips if she stole a kiss at just the right - 

"Hey, babe," said the voice Tony woke up to every morning, and before she could react, a strong, callused hand had given her an affectionate squeeze on the shoulder. "Leave some for me?"

"Always," said Tony. Steph, golden hair dark and damp after her morning workout, was sweaty enough that normally Tony would have balked at pulling her down into a long, lingering kiss, but it wasn't as if Tony was any too clean herself. "How many heavy bags do I need to replace today?"

"None," said Steph, taking an instant to nuzzle Tony's cheek before standing and reaching for the "Because I'm Captain America, That's Why" coffee mug Clint had bought her as a joke a few Christmases ago. She walked over to the pantry, pulled out a package of instant oats, and dumped half a cup into a microwave-proof bowl. "That's for later, after I fuel up. Running twenty miles before breakfast works up an appetite, you know."

"Twenty miles? No wonder you have legs of steel." Tony watched as she added a handful of almonds, a small package of raisins, and a couple of spoonfuls of brown sugar to her bowl, poured in two-thirds of a cup of whole milk, and put the first course of one of her usual enormous breakfasts into the microwave. "Toast?"

"Fiber first, then protein." Steph pulled off a collarless sweatshirt that had seen better days, draped it carefully over a chair, and stretched. Her blue sports bra was another Stark Industries prototype, and Tony made a mental note to snag it from the wash to check the tensile strength. Steph hadn't exactly been flat before the serum, and now had enough upstairs to give the new microfiber blend a good test, especially after she'd run most of a marathon. "Turkey bacon - "

"You do realize that bacon comes from pigs, right?" 

" - then some fruit, maybe waffles if Clint didn't feed the last couple to his dog." Steph set the microwave for two minutes and filled her coffee mug almost to the brim. She leaned back against the counter and took her first sip. "And yes, I do know where bacon comes from. I just like the taste."

"You're a strange, strange woman," said Tony. She scratched absently at the RT and watched as Steph moved easily from counter to refrigerator, cutting board to pantry, stove to refrigerator to gather and chop and heat. Every step, every reach, every flip of the pan was as smooth and controlled as the tumbling runs Steph incorporated into her workouts, and Tony wondered, not for the first time, if Steph realized how beautifully she moved. "Not that I'm complaining, mind."

"You, not complaining about something? Someone call the _Bugle_." Clint Barton, looking more than usually dissipated, stumbled in. There was no sign of his mutt, which meant he'd probably left it in the tenement he allegedly owned in Little Irkutsk. "'Morning."

"Clint? When did you get in?" Steph frowned. "Thought you were across the river last night."

"I was. Don't ask." Clint rubbed his eyes, picked up the coffee pot, and drank directly from the source before anyone could stop him. "Oh God that's good. So good. Ohhhh - "

Tony snatched the pot from him before he could inflict more of his bad hygiene on what was supposed to be a communal kitchen, poured the rest of the coffee into a chipped Ironclad mug that showed the armor at least three builds ago, and shoved the pot into the dishwasher. "Jesus, Clint. I know you were a carnie, but come on. That's just disgusting."

"Aw, coffee," said Clint, slumping against the counter until he smelled the cup under his nose. He took a good long sniff and all but moaned. "If you weren't already taken I'd marry you just for the coffee beans, I swear - "

"Pay no attention to him, Tony." Natasha, an unusually smug Bucky Barnes trailing behind her, gave Clint a not entirely affectionate elbow in the ribs as she walked past on her way to the fruit bowl. "He says that to any woman - "

"Or man," said Bucky, moving to stand beside Steph as his oldest friend gestured toward the refrigerator. 

" - who's willing to feed him," Natasha finished. She looked calm, fresh, and ready for a day of whatever a highly trained ex-Soviet agent did on her own time. "James, don't encourage him."

Bucky said something in Russian that made Natasha snort and Steph chuckle under her breath. "Hey. You do know he proposed after I gave him half a pastrami sandwich."

"I was trying to distract you so you'd give it back. That was _my_ sandwich, you thief, and I - "

"Then why'd the receipt show up in my wallet?"

"How the hell should I - "

"Bucky? Clint?" Steph straightened and turned to face the room, and Tony couldn't restrain the swell of pride at how quiet the room went at the merest hint that Captain America was not happy. "It's way too early to argue about a sandwich - "

"What about sexual harassment? I'm straight and - "

" - so stow it." Steph had just enough height on Bucky to be intimidating, even though he was the ex-assassin. "There's a team meeting at 0900 to discuss coverage while Tony and I are in Massachusetts so you can add that to the agenda."

Clint rubbed absently at a fading bruise on his left bicep. "Since when is Buckycap - "

"Cripes, I wish people would stop calling me that," muttered Bucky, kicking at a stain on the floor. Natasha, who had found the spare coffee pot and started brewing a fresh batch, paused long enough to give his right shoulder an affectionate pat. “I filled in for what, a year? Less?”

" - part of the team? I thought he was still under the radar."

"He is, officially," said Steph. She twitched a lock of hair over her shoulder, seemingly unphased by the reference to Bucky’s stint as the only male Captain America. "Unofficially? He still has the uniform and a practice shield. There's been some chatter about Doctor Doom making a speech at the U.N. that weekend and I'd feel better having Buck on call in case he decides to pay us a visit on his way to the General Assembly."

She turned, flipped the turkey bacon before it could burn, and fixed Clint with the deceptively mild look that meant "Captain America is not in the mood for your shenanigans." "We'll go over in it in detail during the meeting if that's all right with you."

Clint, for once showing some hint of brains, jerked his head up and down. Bucky started hauling plates out of the nearest cabinet so Earth's Mightiest Heroes could eat off something more than the kitchen counter. Steph said something to Natasha, who opened the fridge, grabbed a carton of eggs, and began handing them to her one by one as she began scrambling them with the meat. 

It was all very normal, even after Peter bounced in, slapped a web onto the ceiling, and insisted on eating a granola bar hanging upside down at exactly the right angle to dribble crumbs into Tony's coffee. She made a face but drank anyway - caffeine was too precious to waste simply because Spider-Man was a messy eater - and waited for the rest of the team to settle down with their respective meals and newspapers/tablets before catching Steph's eye and leading her out into the hall.

Steph waited until Tony had shut the door to speak. "If this is about Bucky, I wasn't sure Homeland Security would approve it until I got the confirmation first thing this morning. He and Nat blew in last night after you’d fallen asleep and - "

"No, no, not that." Tony swiped at her hair. "It's just - well, maybe it is. I know you're worried about leaving New York unprotected while you're out of town, but you don't need to be. It'll be fine without Bucky risking his cover, you don't need to worry."

"Maybe, maybe not." Steph, who'd brought her plate with her, took a moment to finish off a slice of deliciously smoked and flavored pseudo-pig. "Normally I'd let Reed and Sue handle this, but I trust Doom even less than usual since Madam Hydra showed up near the Latverian border two months ago. Those two making common cause is bad news."

"No one trusts Doom, I totally get that, but that's not what I mean." Tony took a deep breath. She’d been putting this off for at least a week. "Baby, I know this means a lot to you, and if you were going anywhere but Prescott I swear I'd be right there beside you. But - "

"But what?" Steph swallowed a forkful of eggs and frowned slightly. "Has something come up? They asked me months ago, we both cleared our schedules - "

Howard had been dead for years, and Tony had been in therapy almost as long. Why was it so hard to admit that his crappy decisions were still screwing up what should have been the happiest years of his daughter's life? "It's not that. I swear. It's just - "

The air seemed to go solid for the barest of seconds, and before Tony could draw another breath the alarm blared almost directly over their heads. Steph went rigid, then whirled and slammed through the kitchen as the rest of the Avengers, official and unofficial, went from sleepy and hungry to alert and aware. "Bucky? Nat? Got a sitrep?"

"Something about intruders at one of the reservoirs," said Bucky. He set his jaw and worked his bionic arm in its socket as the alarm shifted from continuous to intermittent. "I don't know if I should go on this one, Steph. The Winter Soldier isn't exactly public."

Steph glanced at the kitchen computer interface, which had shifted from the morning _Times_ to a live stream from SHIELD's local headquarters. Her eyes narrowed at the flash of green hovering above one of New York's chief sources of drinking water. "Wear a mask and suit up. We'll need more than one sniper if this is what I think it is."

She turned to face the room, head up, shoulders back, command in every line of her body. "Battle Plan E-12, people, and keep to it, this could go south real fast. Clint, you're piloting until we can reach Carol, so make it snappy."

"Got it," said Clint, slapping down his mug and sprinting for the Quinjet hangar. "Spidey?"

"Yessir, Hawkguy, sir!" called Peter, and how he managed to move across the ceiling like that was more than Tony wanted to know. "Don't leave without me!"

"Tony." Steph waited to make sure the team was heading for their designated positions before taking a precious second to grab Tony and press their foreheads together. "Get Thor and head out. The rest of us'll be right behind."

"Thor? You really want me to wake him up?" Tony might not be Bucky's biggest fan, but it was reassuring to see him pause long enough to plant a quick one on Natasha before sprinting toward the armory for his rifle and body armor. Maybe Steph was right about the Winter Soldier being gone for good. "Jesus, tell me it's not Loki. The last thing we need is that lunatic stirring up trouble."

"Not Loki, but it's definitely Asgardians. Maybe Amora? Either way, we'll need his firepower." Steph raked her hand through her sweaty hair. "I'm counting on you for aerial support, Ironclad."

"Always, Cap," said Tony. She hesitated, then leaned up and gave Steph a kiss that promised much more as soon as they got home. If Bucky could do it, so could she. "Be safe, hon."

"You, too," said Steph, shifting from girlfriend mode to Captain America between one heartbeat and the next. "See you in the Catskills!"

"Yep," said Tony. She held out her arms and concentrated as the armor assembled about her. They could talk about the biggest disappointment of her life after they saved the world, or at least the New York water supply.


	2. Chapter 2

**ATTACK ON RESERVOIR THWARTED BY AVENGERS**

Asgardians Suspected; Captain America Injured?

By Betty Brant, special to the Bugle

NEW YORK - An attack on a critical source of water for New York City was stopped in its tracks by the efforts of New York's greatest superheroes, the Avengers.

Details are still filtering in, but eyewitnesses report that a group of armored men, led by a blonde woman in green body armor, suddenly appeared over the Ashokan Reservoir in the Catskills, approximately 90 miles from New York. The woman, who was later identified as the Asgardian criminal Amora the Enchantress, directed her forces to attack the dam holding back the water from Esopus Creek. She was in the middle of aiming a spell directly at the center of the dam, which could have resulted in a catastrophic breach of the century-old structure, when Ironclad and Thor arrived by air.

Thor immediately engaged the Enchantress while Ironclad held off the rest of the criminals. Soon the rest of the Avengers, led by Captain America and Black Widow, joined in, and a pitched battle ensued. The Asgardians proved formidable opponents, but it was not long before Earth's Mightiest Heroes had once again succeeded in defending the city and its people from a supervillain bent on bringing New York to its knees.

The Enchantress and her men were secured and transported by personnel from SHIELD to the Raft, New York's maximum security prison for supervillains, while the Avengers, aided by X-Men leader Shadowcat, checked the reservoir for contamination and structural integrity. "It's not enough to save the dam if the water isn't drinkable. Remember, we don't just defend New York, we live there," said Ironclad, taking a moment from scanning the dam for cracks. "I don't know about you, but the last thing we need is a city full of wiggling tentacles instead of people. Not that I'm prejudiced against tentacles or anything, but it's the principle of the thing."

Reports that Captain America was struck by one of the Enchantress's spells toward the end of the battle and transported back to New York for medical treatment could not be immediately confirmed, but the Sentinel of Liberty was nowhere to be found afterwards. The Bugle is actively working to discover what, if anything, happened to the Avengers' field commander…. 

 

"Well? Where is she?" Tony raked her hair back from her eyes as she strode down the hospital corridor, voice rising as she tried to make herself heard over the clamor of reporters shoving against a cordon of New York's finest and SHIELD's most formidable. The floor shook slightly under the weight of the armor. 

"Miss Stark," began a harried administrator in a crumb-strewn suit that had probably been very fashionable five years ago. 

"That's _Ms._ Stark, chum, as you'd know if you'd bothered to read my Wikipedia article," Tony snarled. She was almost his height in the armor, and judging by the way he retreated, he wasn't used to angry women. "Captain America. _Where is she?_ "

"I’m sorry, Miss - Ms. Stark, but that information is restricted to family members and - "

"Ms. Stark is Captain Rogers' designated medical proxy," said a familiar voice, and if Pepper hadn't been straight as a line between two points, Tony would have kissed her on the spot. "That should be in her medical records already. I'm surprised you didn't see it."

The administrator dabbed ineffectually at the remains of his morning bagel. "My apologies, we've been dealing with the press and Washington. I just got off the phone with the President and - "

"Great, wonderful, tell him I said hello as soon as you've told me where Captain Rogers is." Tony let her right repulsor warm just enough for her palm to start to glow. "Tick tock, on the clock."

"She's - " The bureaucrat glanced over his shoulder at the press, then lowered his voice. "Suite 6412. Her doctors are already conferring, so if you'd care to wait?"

"Doctors? Great, maybe they can tell me what's going on," said Tony. There was a flash of color at the end of the hallway, and never in her life had she been happier to see Hank Pym. "I am a genius, after all."

"A genius? I didn't - "

"Read Wikipedia, it's almost accurate." Tony flashed him a thin, terrifying smile, nodded to Pepper, and headed toward Suite 6412. 

 

_"Ironclad! On your five!"_

_"Got it, Cap!" Tony fired a blast almost casually toward an Asgardian wielding what looked like an enormous wooden club and probably wasn't. "How many down?"_

_"Seven so far, a dozen left." Captain America, directing the battle as always, smashed her shield into an opponent's face and sent him flying a good ten feet. "Black Widow, report!"_

_"James and I are in position. Captain Marvel is en route with War Machine - "_

_"Go Rhodey!" yelled Tony, pivoting in midair to fire straight down at a knot of Asgardians who had finally noticed Hawkeye perched in a fluffy white pine._

_" - ETA two minutes or under."_

_"Keep me posted," said Cap. She ducked under a violently pulsating sword just before it would have taken off her head and lunged forward -_

 

"Tony. Glad you're here," said Hank Pym. He stepped into the corridor, grabbed Tony by the arm, and steered her away from the door to Steph's room. Tony had barely had a chance to yank free when Hank McCoy, in a white lab coat that made his fur look bluer than usual, emerged from the doorway, peered at them over his glasses, and nodded before retreating into what Tony devoutly hoped was the largest, most luxurious suite on the floor. "Before you go inside, there's something you need to know."

Only the RT kept Tony 's heart beating steadily. "She's that bad? I know she took a nasty hit, but she's come back from worse – “

Including the time that Tony had gotten her killed because they were both too stubborn to sit down and _talk_ , and why was that horror the only thing she could think of right now? 

" - we both know that."

"It's not her injuries, Tony. Physically she's going to be just fine." Hank, tactful for once, acted as if Tony had never hesitated. "Normally she'd be discharged later tonight but we need to run more tests."

He pressed his fingertips to his right temple, lightly massaging the skin. "Like I said, she's fine, or she will be. A few bumps and bruises, that's all. Nothing major, she won't even scar."

"Scar? Since when does Cap scar?" Tony aimed a finger at his chest and forced down the memory of Steph bleeding out on the courthouse steps while Pete Wisdom tried to support her head. Even those marks had faded with time. 

_Focus, Tony. Focus._

"What the hell is going on?"

"There's no good way to put it," said Hank, and Tony had to resist the urge to shake him till he squeaked, or shrank, or something. "That energy beam, the one that got past her shield?”

Tony closed her eyes and counted off the first fifty digits of pi. "You mean the one Amora aimed at me?"

"That's not that I meant and you - "

A head, this one blonde and half-covered in a Kree war mask, appeared in the doorway. "Tony? Thank God you finally made it," said Carol. She shook her hair, long and straight today, back from her face as the mask retracted. "She's been asking for you for the last half hour."

If Steph could talk, that meant she wasn't dying, at least not imminently. Tony shot Carol a grateful look and elbowed past Hank into what was probably a state of the art hospital room for anyone but an Avenger. "Steph? Are you - " 

"'m fine," said the thin, battered woman in the bed, smiling through what had to be a cocktail of the very newest and best pain meds, and this time Tony actually did feel her heart skip a beat.

_"Not so powerful now, are you, Woman of Iron?"_

_Thor had always loathed Amora - hell, Loki wasn't precisely a fan - and Tony didn't blame him a bit. She had armor for almost every foe, from carbon nanotubes that rendered her immune to Magneto's little tricks to the Hulkbuster build she hadn't had to use in years, but magic was so unpredictable, and came in so many varieties, that she'd given up designing spell-proof armor as a lost cause. _

_Mistake._

_Big, big, big mistake._

_"You'd be surprised," she ground out, struggling to move in a suit that was nothing but dead weight thanks to a surprisingly strong Asgardian version of an EMP. "You're going to regret whatever the hell you just did."_

_"Really?" Amora laughed low in her throat. "Regrets are for fools, mortal, as you're about to learn."_

_A glowing streak flashed overhead as Captain Marvel zoomed toward wherever Amora had managed to send Thor with a teleportation spell. "That doesn't say much about you, since I'll bet you'll have plenty of regrets when Thor puts the hammer down right on your pretty little head."_

_The Enchantress raised one perfectly manicured hand and aimed directly at the chestplate of Tony's armor. "Perhaps. But not before I demonstrate my power on your helpless - "_

_"Not if I can help it!" came the cry, and before Tony could react a red, white, and blue figure had thrown itself straight in front of the yellow-white beam that shot out of Amora's fingertips -_

 

It wasn't the first time Tony had seen Steph in a hospital bed; the very first time she'd looked into those blue, blue eyes, Steph had still been shaking ice crystals from what was left of her victory rolls onto the floor of their old submersible's medical bay. Being injured came with the job description for anyone who signed up to be a superhero, male or female, and Steph had taken more than her share of lumps over the years thanks to her habit of leading the charge. 

Broken bones, torn ligaments, bruises, gashes, concussions and sword cuts, poison gas that burned the lungs and armor-piercing bullets to the gut - you name it, Captain America had taken it, then shrugged and said she'd taken worse in the ETO as the wounds closed and the damage healed. She was all but indestructible, the woman out of time, and anyone who thought otherwise was even dumber than the usual supervillain. Whatever they threw at her she threw right back, usually with her teeth bared and a good hard left to the jaw.

But not this time.

Tony had to remind herself to be careful as she placed her armored hand over a slender wrist that should have been strong enough to whip a heavy metal shield through a doorway. "Hey, babe. I'm here."

"'bout time. Thought you were lollygaggin' again." Steph's cheekbones looked sharp enough to cut glass. "Hank give you the news yet?"

"She didn't give me a chance," said Hank, sticking his hands in the pockets of a lab coat that looked ridiculous over a stretchy red thing that was probably intended as an homage to his old Giant Man costume. He pointed ignored the other Hank, who was busily scribbling notes onto a clipboard. “Knowing Tony, she's probably figured it out on her own by now."

"Figured out what? That my girlfriend's too damn reckless for her own good?" Please, please let Steph be doped up enough not to notice the pity in the nurse's eyes as she adjusted an IV line that Captain America never should have needed. "Tell me something I didn't know ten years ago."

“I could say the same.” Steph smiled despite a truly spectacular bruise on one cheekbone. Tony couldn’t help but smile back. “My girl's always getting into trouble even though she's supposed to be the smartest person in town. Funny, isn't it?”

“The laughs never end.” Tony concentrated, and her gauntlet retracted so she could actually feel how cool and delicate that warm, strong hand had become. The calluses on the palms and fingertips were gone, lost to whatever magic had overcome the serum. "Hey."

"Hey yourself." Steph hiked herself up on her elbows, lips thinning as she struggled to raise herself. Carol, now in a tattered Air Force Reserve t-shirt and yoga pants, tsked and pressed a button on the side of the bed to allow Steph to be on Tony’s level without exhausting herself. "Hope you've got a sitrep since no one'll tell me anything."

"Beyond 'we won'?" The rest of the armor disappeared as the bed started to list under the extra weight. Tony threw her head back and began reciting what she'd been told. "Amora and her minions are at the Raft, this time for what they swear is keeps. Nat and her bionic boyfriend are at SHIELD, something about owing Fury a game of pinochle - "

"Good. The less Bucky's seen in public without a mask, the better," murmured Steph. A bit of color had returned to her face. "Especially since it looks like he'll be subbing for me for a while."

Tony bit back the urge to tell Steph not to be silly, she'd be up and around before the Winter Soldier had a chance to oil the rust spots on his arm. "Peter and Clint are back at the Tower, FEMA's checking the dam for structural integrity, and Carol's here instead of feeding that dustball she calls a cat, God knows why."

Carol rolled her eyes. "Because someone has to look after you two, that's why."

“I can look after m’self,” said Steph. Her eyes were slightly glazed from whatever was in that IV. “Not sure about Short Stuff here – “

“Hey!”

“ – but I’m a big girl, y’know.”

“Is that why you’re here and not giving the press conference?” Carol rolled her eyes again and snorted in a way that was neither delicate nor ladylike. “And before you ask, we delegated that to Thor, not Peter or Clint, and no, the doctors aren’t letting you go home for at least a day or two. So don’t start.”

It was Steph’s turn to look exasperated. “I’ll heal quicker in my own bed. Familiar surroundings, you know.”

“My dear Captain, if only that were so,” said Hank McCoy in his most mellifluous voice, coming to stand beside Carol. His glasses had ridden low on his nose, and glinted slightly in the light from the monitors that kept track of her heartbeat and blood gases. “Alas, neither my esteemed colleague nor the staff at this fine institution think that advisable until we’ve run a few more tests.”

“Hank, I’m fine.” Steph reared back as the nurse approached with a thermometer. “Miss, that won’t be necessary. I’ll be out of here - “

“Oh no you won’t,” interjected Carol. “Do I need to make that an order, _Captain?_ ”

“You’re retired, _Colonel_ , and I – “

“Ladies, please!” Hank raised a hand for silence. “Captain, I’m afraid the Colonel has the right of it. You need rest and quiet, at least for a little while, and what better place than this fine institution?”

Steph tried and failed to stifle a yawn. “Tony. You’re a scientist. Back me on this.”

“Damn it, Captain, I’m an engineer, not a doctor,” said Tony, and nearly dropped her girlfriend’s hand when Steph actually managed a weak chuckle. Had she finally switched to back to _Star Trek_ reruns after six months obsessing over _Grey’s Anatomy_? “All joking aside, for once I have to agree with Hank and Hank. Going home isn’t a good idea until we have a better idea of what Amora did to you.”

The nurse shot Tony a grateful look. So did Hank Pym, who had wisely retreated to a table covered with laptops, cabling, and a wireless router with the SHIELD eagle etched on the flat black surface. Steph’s jaw tightened. 

“Traitor,” she said, and thank God she followed it with a faint, rancorless smile. “Never thought you’d all gang up on me.”

“What are friends for?” said Carol. She tossed her hair back over her shoulders. “Be glad we didn’t have to call Bucky in to yell at you. The way he can swear - ”

“Y’know, I taught him most of those. He was only sixteen when they decided I needed a sidekick,” said Steph, and settled back against her pillows with a tiny shrug. “What the heck. I could use a good night’s sleep. The noise the rest of you make keeps me up most nights.”

Carol’s jaw dropped. “The noise _we_ make? You and Tony are the ones who – “

“Anyone got a takeout menu?” Tony said hastily. The last thing she needed was the world, or at least a random nurse, knowing that she was a screamer. “There’s a great new Indian place down in Curry Hill that delivers, my treat! You’ll love it, guaranteed!”

Steph arched an eyebrow and glanced over at Hank McCoy. “Well? Are you gonna let me eat like a normal person?”

“I’m sure we can arrange something,” said Hank McCoy. His whiskers quivered as he suppressed a laugh. “Henry? If memory serves me right, you were addicted to green curry the last time we broke broke bread together. Is this still the case?”

“I’m not addicted to anything, and you know it,” said Hank Pym. “Honestly, Hank – “

The next few minutes were the usual post-battle chaos: whether to order extra naan or papadum, red or green or yellow curry on the chicken tikka, and don’t forget to include a couple of meatless dishes in case one of the team vegetarians toddled in with flowers from the adoring public. By the time they’d gotten it all sorted out and Carol had flown out the window with most of the contents of Tony’s wallet stuffed into her gauntlet, Steph had dozed off with her fingers still laced through Tony’s, beautiful and bruised and much, much too pale.

Tony carefully guided that limp, slender hand to lie between her breasts, right where Amora’s blast had struck. Everything was smaller, shoulders and ribcage and even her neck, and Tony had to look away before the full impact of it had her doing something unforgiveable like crying in public

“She’ll be all right,” Hank McCoy murmured, and just when had he placed a hand on Tony’s shoulder? “Of that I have no doubt.”

“She’d better be,” said Tony. She swallowed, hard. “She’d better be.”


	3. Chapter 3

_Excerpt from admissions essay to Prescott College by Antonia Edwina Stark, date redacted._

_…my mother's family has a long and distinguished history with Prescott College, going back to the very first graduating class in 1870. My great-great-grandmother Harriett Moses Collins was part of that class, and to date almost a dozen Collins and Carbonell women have followed in her footsteps. "Woman deserve - nay, require \- four precious years to concentrate on building their minds and spirits without concerning themselves with their role as the wives and mothers of the next generation," she said in her memoirs, and my mother has always stressed that I, too, should avail myself of this freedom before I join her and my father in the family business._

_Sophonisba Prescott once said, "I intend for the women of Prescott to be a perennial blessing to America and to the world." My last name may be Stark, but there is nothing I want more than to join my mother and her ancestors as a Prescott alumna. Woman are finally stepping forward to claim their place alongside men as scientists, industrialists, and engineers, and I cannot imagine a better place to prepare myself for the burdens of defending America and leading the way into the twenty-first century…_

_[A handwritten note on the file reads, "Extremely strong candidate, recommend early decision despite age." A second note directly beneath this reads, "Candidate's father contacted Admissions to state that Antonia will be attending MIT instead."]_

 

The serum was still there.

It was currently dormant – no kidding, why else had Captain America turned from a gloriously healthy Amazon to a waifish, big-eyed wreck – but Dr. Erskine's miracle was still grafted to Steph's DNA, ready and waiting to restore her to her usual magnificent self if the Avengers could only figure out how to compensate for the lost Vita-Ray protocols. The serum also was still effecting her, at least to a certain extent; her spine was straight, her heart was sound and her bloodwork normal, and her vision was perfect, none of which had been the case before she’d volunteered to be the safety tester for Operation Rebirth.

Of course she'd lost a third of her body weight thanks to Amora, could barely bench a kitten, and was sucking on an inhaler several times a day, but - 

Tony scrubbed at her eyes and willed herself to go over the Hanks’ joint report one last time. She'd already memorized the damn thing, which was blessedly freed of Hank McCoy's cute little anachronisms and Hank Pym’s sour defensiveness, but maybe if she read it one more time she'd find the the answer that had so far defied her, and Reed, and even Stephen Strange, and - 

"Tony? Are you still up?"

Light from the doorway washed across the computer screen, momentarily bleaching out the screen until the settings could adjust. Tony gathered herself and spun her chair around to face the newcomer.

"I thought you'd gone to bed already."

Steph walked into the Tower’s communal biochem lab. She wore clothes that didn't quite fit through the shoulders and chest, but her posture and stride were as military as ever. "I had to go over a few things with Bucky. He's still kicking up a fuss at having to cover for me, but Nat'll knock some sense into him if I know her." 

"Good luck on that.” Tony stood up, making sure to position herself in front of the computer screen. Steph might have reverted to her pre-serum height, but she was still tall enough that Tony had to tilt her head back to meet that clear, resolute gaze. "He has a point, you know, as much as it galls me to admit it. New York will be fine without you for a few days."

"Maybe. Maybe not." Steph moved past Tony and opened the nearest window, coughing slightly as she passed a rack of chemicals one of the Hanks had been working on earlier in the day. Surprisingly fresh air filled the room. "Me being away is one thing, but both of us going out of town is asking for trouble. Pete and Nick say there's enough chatter about Doom and his buddies plotting something big that I'll sleep easier knowing Captain America is on the job."

Tony leaned back against her desk, arms folded across her chest. The RT glowed blue-white behind the dark fabric of her undershirt. "Steph. I know you’re trying to protect the city, but making Bucky pick up the shield again isn’t necessary. The rest of the team can handle anything short of Galactus, and according to Reed he’s off bothering another universe. Let your old sidekick brood in piece.”

“That's the last thing he needs, brooding,” said Steph, carefully tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Her nails were short, neatly manicured, and painted the glossy red the polish company called “American Beauty Rose” and Steph called “Elizabeth Arden Red” even though Elizabeth Arden hadn’t manufactured that particular shade since 1946. “Nat told me he’s been edgy lately, and you know what that means. Being Cap again, even if it's temporary, will help. She can only do so much to keep him steady, you know.”

“You aren't giving her enough credit. They'll both be fine.” Tony stifled a yawn. “Go to bed, hon. This is going to take a while.”

Steph peered over her shoulder at the computer screen. “The Hanks' report? Tony, you've been working on that for the last week. Have you even had dinner?”

“I grabbed a sandwich, yeah.” Tony gestured at a crumb-strewn plate and an empty bottle of Jones Soda. “See? I do live on something besides black coffee and toast.”

“About time you started listening to me, even if you won’t pay attention in the field half the time,” said Steph. “If only you’d start getting enough shut eye, my life would be complete.”

“Says Captain ‘I get up at 6:00 am and run a marathon three times a week,’” said Tony before she could stop herself. Only someone who knew Steph very, very well would have noticed the slight tensing of her jaw at the reminder of her usual routine.

“Army life will do that to you.” Steph held out her right hand. “Come on. You still need to pack. They’re expecting us tomorrow right after lunch, which means an early start if we’re going to beat the traffic up to Prescott.”

“About that. The commencement thing.” Tony hesitated, then plunged ahead. Better to get this over with. “I’ve been giving it a lot of thought and it might not be a great idea for me to - "

Steph turned from admiring the glowing red and gold lights suffusing the Empire State Building’s spire. Her face was set in an expression that had never boded well for anyone, including Tony. "If you're gonna give me some nonsense about staying home - "

"There’s too much work to do with you on leave,” said Tony, voice rising slightly. “Too much danger, too many supervillains, too much - " 

" – I already told _you_ , that's not an option." Steph slapped her hands to her hips, and for one instant she could have been herself, the living legend, not an underfed throwback to her starving artist days. "Tony. You agreed to go with me back in January."

Tony pulled her legs underneath her, pushed the chair back from the desk, and stood up. "That was before Amora attacked the reservoir. I'm needed here, not picking up another honorary doctorate to add to the dozens I already have."

“Needed here. Right." Steph's nostrils flared. "I guess this isn't what you wanted to talk to me about when we got the call out to Ashokan that morning, then?”

Of course Steph had remembered that aborted conversation, and of course she knew Tony well enough that trying to fast talk her into believing otherwise was a hopeless. Damn eidetic memory. “It was, but I can explain.” 

“Explain what? That you were trying to bail on a commitment?” 

“Commitment? All I have to do is _stand_ there, they didn’t even ask me to make a speech!”

“Prescott’s the only women’s college with a mechanical engineering program. Half those girls are gonna end up working for you anyway, so why are you suddenly ‘too busy’ to talk to them now?” said Steph. Her fingers shaped themselves into air quotes as she loomed over Tony. “Tony, you promised – “

“That was before – “

“Before what? Before this happened?” Steph waved at herself, the pants she’d had to borrow from Carol because her own were too big and too long, the shirt that hung loose from upper arms that should have been smooth and firm and muscular. “When I was still – “

The next words slipped out before Tony could stop herself. "When you were still what? Still you?"

Steph gaped at her. "I'm never _not_ me, what the hell are you talking about?"

" - instead of - of - " Tony threw up her hands with an inarticulate snarl. "Jesus. _Jesus_. That isn't coming out right. Of course you're you, that's not what I meant!"

"Then talk to me!” Steph's eyes had darkened to near cobalt instead of their usual clear light blue. "Tony, I swear, if you don't start making sense I'm gonna - "

"All right!" Tony yanked at her hair until it was standing almost straight up. "Christ almighty, you are the stubbornest person I've ever met!"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am." Steph moved forward. The faint sound of honking horns and emergency sirens floated up from the street. "I'm patient, too. What's going on, Tony?"

 _I'm still mad at my father even though he's been dead for over twenty years_ was a pitiful excuse. _It's my fault you're de-serumed_ was worse. Never mind that both were true.

“It's – shit. _Shit_.” Why could she never lie to Steph? Even when she wasn't being Captain America? “You aren't going to like what I say - “

“I don't like the idea of you bailing on this at the last minute, so you might as well spill whatever it is.”

“ - so let's just say I have my reasons for staying here, and let it drop? Just for once?” Tony turned back to toward her worktable, armed folded across her chest. She could all but feel Steph's gaze boring a hole in her spine. “I'll make this up to you, I swear I will, but going with you? Not a good idea, not at all.”

The monitor reflected Steph’s image well enough that Tony could see her whip her forelock into place with the same wrist flick she used to throw her shield. “Antonia Edwina. You gave your word. Not only to Prescott, but to me.”

If there was one thing, _one thing_ , Tony could not stand, it was being addressed by her full legal name. Fortunately Steph had the same problem. “That was before I thought it through, _Stephanie Germaine_. Now that I have, I've decided that it was a rotten idea. Really simple.”

“That's not good enough. Not even close.” Steph's breath rasped in her throat, not that she would acknowledge any discomfort unless she went into a full blown asthma attack. “If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think you were ashamed.”

“Ashamed? What?”

This time Steph did cough, once, and the harsh bark of it drowned out the noise from the street. “Of me, looking like this instead of – “

“Ashamed? The hell?” Tony's voice rose until it was almost shrill, and she smacked her hand against her leg in frustration. She hated it when she sounded girly. “Damn it, Steph, you know that isn’t it!” 

“Then talk to me,” said Steph, and the last thing Tony had ever expected was the quiet desperation in her voice. “Tony Stark doesn’t run from a fight. She never has and she never will. 

“So tell me why she’s trying to back out of going to a college graduation.”

Tony planted her hands on the lab table and leaned forward until she could no longer see Steph’s reflection. “I’m not trying to back out of – “

_”Why won’t you talk to me? What makes you think Registration is such a good idea? It’s wrong, Tony, it’s – “_

_“I have my reasons, Steph. Can’t you trust me?”_

_“Only if you trust me, Tony. Together we can solve this, but if you shut me out, forget it.” Steph’s eyes were almost as blue as her cowl as she took a step toward Tony, palms held out and up in supplication. “Is keeping whatever it is to yourself worth that much? Is it?”_

Tony closed her eyes against the memory of the last time she’d refused to talk to Steph. Would she ever learn?

“It’s not worth it, it never - ”

“Tony?”

“Nothing – I – “ Tony grimaced, opened her eyes. “I thought I was over it, you know. I really did.” 

“Over what?” There was a faint click of military-issue heels on linoleum as Steph crossed the space between them. Tony jerked at the weight of a slim hand between her shoulder blades. “Tony. If it really is that bad, I’ll go by myself. Just tell me why.”

“I – “ Tony hissed slightly as Steph’s fingertips dug into the tense spot where her bra band crossed the muscles beneath her right shoulder blade. “I should have ‘fessed up already. I’m sorry, babe.”

“It’s all right,” said Steph, the last echo of anger fading from her voice as she worked out the knots, one by one. Even now, when she was closer to a super model than a super soldier, she gave the best backrubs Tony had ever had. “You’re telling me now.”

The rest of Midtown slowly lit up around them, building by building. Tony sighed as her muscles slowly unclenched. “My mother went to Prescott, you know. So did her mother, and her aunt, and most of her cousins.”

“I know. Your grandmother’s portrait is in Oram Library, right next to old Sophie’s.” Steph’s hands slid down Tony’s flanks to sit lightly on her waist. She rested her chin on her lover’s spiky dark hair, and Tony could not help sighing at the contact. “You look like her sometimes, you know. Especially when you’re being stubborn about something.”

“Really? Didn’t know that.” Tony pushed off from the table and leaned back against the women she loved. “I’ve never been to Prescott, you know. Not once.”

“Never? Your family’s gone there for generations.” Steph’s arms tightened about her. “I lived in a dorm named for Harriet Moses Collins, you know, and one of the other WACS was a Carbonell. Are you saying your mother never tried to make you a Scottie like her?”

“It wasn’t her, Steph.” Tony took a deep breath and turned in place so they were facing at last. “She was so sure I’d go that she enrolled me the day I was born. I grew up hearing stories about her college days, and her mother’s, and even her aunt Maddie, the one who knew you back in the day.”

Even now, so many years later, she couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice. “If Maria had had her way, I would have been the fourth generation of my family to go to Prescott.”

Steph’s eyes widened. “Had her way - wait. Are you saying your father wouldn’t let you go?”

“Got it in one.” Tony had to force the next words out. “I’d just gotten my acceptance letter when Howard spotted it and blew up. He tore it to pieces right in front of me, then called the admissions office and told them I was going to MIT, never mind that I hadn’t even applied. 

“Then he started yelling that he was damned if he was sending his daughter to a ‘girls’ school’ and got into a screaming match with my mother about going behind his back. I tried to tell him that he couldn’t make me go anywhere, I was going to Prescott no matter what, and if Jarvis hadn’t walked into the room right about then I swear he would have hauled off and walloped either Mom or me.”

She swallowed, shook her head. Even now she wasn’t sure how she’d gotten through the next few months, when her parents had stopped speaking to each other and Howard had confiscated her mail and monitored her phone calls to make sure she wasn’t trying to hit her trust fund for enough money to decamp to Prescott before he could stop her. “Made for fun times at dinner, at least until Howard caught me kissing another girl and we had something else to fight about.”

It had been the first time Tony had admitted to herself that she liked girls better than boys, the first time she'd actually _enjoyed_ being kissed. And of course Howard had barged in right then and wrecked it all – 

“I probably should have told him to go to hell and just gone on my own, but I was fifteen. What was I supposed to do?”

“Oh, Tony. _Tony_. Why didn’t you say anything?” Steph’s voice caught slightly, and why was _she_ so upset? “I know Howard was rotten to you, but making you give up your dream like that? That’s unspeakable.”

“He made damn sure I couldn’t transfer, too, even when I tried after my first year.” Tony shuddered as Steph gently cradled her cheek in one hand, thumb lightly tracing the curve of her lips. “See why I shouldn’t go? You belong there. Thanks to Mom’s sperm donor, I don’t. Simple as that.”

“Don’t be silly.” Steph smiled, and how did she look so beautiful with the last trace of a bruise darkening her cheek? “Tony. They’re giving you an honorary degree. That means that no matter what Howard did or said twenty years ago – “

“Twenty-two fun-filled years, not that I’m keeping track or anything.”

“Prescott still wants you, no matter what Howard did,” said Steph. She pressed her lips to Tony’s, soft and careful and with just enough pressure to make Tony sigh when she pulled back to catch a breath. “Think about it, Tony. You’ll finally get to be a Prescott girl.”

Steph was wearing cologne today, the same clean, bracing scent she’d worn into battle so the Germans would never forget that their greatest enemy was a woman. Tony breathed deep and stood on her toes to kiss her back, never mind that Steph hated it when her lipstick got smeared. “Some feminist you are, calling yourself a girl,” she murmured. “It’s not 1945 anymore, Captain.”

“Don’t I know it,” Steph murmured back. She traced the line of Tony’s nose, smiled as Tony made a face. “You’ll understand why it’s ‘once a Prescott girl, always a Prescott girl’ when you’re there. Promise.”

The breeze from the window had turned cold enough that Steph had gooseflesh by the time either spoke. “Guess that means I’m going,” said Tony.

“Guess so.” Steph released her and walked over to the window, pulled it shut, and locked it securely even though they were high enough above the street that even Peter would have thought twice about trying to break in. She held out her hand. “Bed? We really do need to pack.”

“Yeah.” Tony shut down the monitor and slipped her hand into Steph’s. The calluses might have been gone, but the grip was as firm and sure as ever. “Looks like we do.”


	4. Chapter 4

_Blind item from "Supercelebs.com" gossip site:_

_CAPTAIN AMERICA - MYSTERY SOLVED? - rumors have swirled about the health of Captain America ever since she was carted away after the battle with super-bitch Amora the Enchantress a few weeks ago. America’s Golden Girl went down hard protecting gal-pal Tony Stark and hasn't been seen much since, and word on the street is that something major is keeping her from the field._

_Favorite theories have ranged from her oh-so-discreet romance with everyone's favorite billionaire-tech genius going sour to a superbaby on board, but thanks to a clever lassie up in Massachusetts we may finally have an answer! One of the pretty coeds at Prescott College, where Captain America is scheduled to speak this Sunday, snapped these photos and it looks like Cap has been so bent on looking like a glamazon for the girlies that she's dieted herself down to nothing._

_"Someone needs to get Cap a sandwich. Or two. Or three," said a source who wants to stay anonymous long enough to pick up her diploma. "Seriously, she looks awful, all bony and pale. She's exercising - we all saw her running laps around the track yesterday afternoon - but she kept stopping to bend over, and it sure looked like she was throwing up. A friend of mind had an eating disorder and this is way too close to that for comfort."_

_Looks like being a superhero and All-American girl is finally too much even for Captain America - or should we make that "Captain Anorexia" from now on?_

_[The article is accompanied by a series of grainy cell phone pictures of Stephanie Rogers in civilian clothing, including one of her wearing a baggy track suit as she catches her breath during a run. She is visibly thinner than usual and holds what appears to be an inhaler in her right hand._

 

“Place sure has changed since 1941.”

That was what Steph kept murmuring as the President of the College led them on a personal tour of Prescott's lush, perfectly landscaped botanical garden/campus. Some of the change was good – Oram Library was twice as big now, and the blighted elm trees in the Memorial Quadrangle had been replaced by graceful sugar maples – but the dreamy Victorian boathouse where Steph had learned to handle smallcraft had been replaced by something more functional and less romantic about the time Howard and Maria had gotten engaged. The magnolias had already bloomed and dropped most of their petals thanks to the earlier spring, and the athletic field now boasted an indoor track big enough to stage the entire graduation ceremony in case of rain. 

Steph had insisted on wearing her Cap uniform, cowl off, even though it was now too long in the leg and arm, too loose through the chest and shoulders. Tony had suggested having Janet alter something from her spring collection, or even borrowing one of Jen’s old suits with the unstable molecules, but Steph had only shaken her head and stepped into the familiar blue trousers.

“I still have my responsibilities, even if I’m not exactly one hundred percent right now,” she’d said, pulling on the top half of her body armor and tucking it into her waistband. She’d smoothed the heavy blue fabric into place and examined her reflection in their room’s full length mirror to make sure the wrinkles were evenly distributed before buckling her belt and shrugging on her shield. “Besides, they asked for Captain America, not Stephanie Rogers. Might as well give them what they want.”

Tony, who was wearing a VanDyne Originals Privé pantsuit in a red so dark it looked black in any but the strongest light, hadn’t even tried to argue. Steph had been super stubborn years before the serum had made her a super soldier, and once she had the bit in her teeth arguing was useless. 

It wasn’t as if pretending that nothing had happened would work, either. Someone with more greed than respect had recognized Steph at the athletic field the day they’d arrived, taken several extremely unflattering pictures with a hidden camera, and sent the results straight to a scuzzy gossip site in exchange for what was probably a big fat wad of cash. “#CaptainAnorexia” had been trending ever since, and the more open Steph was about her changed appearance, the less of a shock it would be if Buckycap had to make an appearance in her place.

Fortunately Reed had texted Tony with the happy news that Dr. Doom had come down with a nasty case of food poisoning courtesy of a trendy if less than clean hotel near St. Vartan’s and had been forced to cancel his visit to the UN. If Tony hadn’t been an atheist, she would have crossed herself and shot a prayer ceilingward in gratitude for that much mercy.

It served Doom right, too. Even a Latverian tyrant should have known better than to tuck into plate of “sushi” made from East River catfish. 

“Ms. Stark?”

Tony jerked back to herself from a pleasant daydream of Central Europe’s favorite petty dictator worshipping the porcelain god in full armor. “Yes? What – “

The President of the College, a small, compactly built Californian whose grandfather had been a sergeant in the 442nd Infantry when Captain America had stopped by on her way to Monte Cassino, blinked at her. One perfectly manicured hand was indicating a white and brown concrete building that had probably looked very spiffy when it was dedicated in the early 1970’s. 

“I was just telling Captain Rogers about the new science museum,” said the President. “It was our science classroom building until the Lord-Scales Science and Mechanical Engineering Complex was dedicated two years ago. So many Prescott women have distinguished themselves in the sciences and mathematics that we decided to repurpose the building in their honor.”

“What do you think, Tony?” Steph, perfectly coiffed and made up in spite of everything, pointed up at the words PRESCOTT COLLEGE MUSEUM OF SCIENCE. “Sounds right up your alley.”

Tony froze. So far she’d managed to hold herself together, at least in public; this visit was about honoring Steph and the other WACs, some of whom had returned to campus to see their old buddy one more time. The College had taken full advantage of this, and between the welcoming reception and all-alumnae tea on Thursday, the WAC Reunion luncheon, “Salute to Captain America” commencement concert, and fireworks honoring the graduating class on Friday, and a chapel service and lavish brunch for the honorary degree recipients and their families this morning, there hadn’t been time for Tony to feel sorry for herself. 

That Steph seemed to be in her element, shaking hands with her old classmates and taking time to chat with any and everyone who recognized her, had only helped. She hadn’t so much as batted an eyelash at the “American Amazon: Captain America in War and Peace” exhibit at the campus art museum, even when several of the drawings on display had turned out to be Stephanie Rogers originals from her student days. 

“I guess it does,” said Tony after a pause that ended just before it qualified as _awkward_. “When did you say this was dedicated? Two years ago?”

“Yes.” The President’s head bobbed up and down. “We sent an invitation to you care of Stark Industries since there’s an exhibit honoring your mother’s work in agronomy, but when we didn’t receive a reply – “

“It’s amazing, how disruptive being a superhero can be,” said Tony, and if Steph narrowed her eyes in a way that usually meant Tony was in trouble, no one but Tony noticed. “I mean, eating and sleeping can be problematic if you’re expecting an attack any second, which is – “

“ – why the Avengers always make sure to leave a team at HQ no matter what,” said Steph, smooth as you please. She smiled easily at the President. “A science museum sounds like fun. What do you think?”

Tony’s throat went dryer than the so-called “New York Bagels” at the brunch that morning. “You know, normally I’d say yes, but it’s been a long couple of days and I’m feeling what my old nanny used to call ‘peaky.’ Besides, we have that formal dinner tonight so a couple of hours back at the hotel to rest would probably do us both good.”

Steph folded her arms across her chest, and how did she suddenly look like Captain America at her most intimidating despite the lack of muscle and size? “I don’t know about that. I’m feeling fresh as a daisy, myself. 

“Besides, you put up with me touring the art museum even though I know you aren’t much for that sort of thing. Turnabout’s fair play.”

If Tony hadn’t been hopelessly besotted with the woman, she would have told Steph what she could do with her turnabout. As it was, she had no choice but to show her teeth in what she hoped the President would take for an enthusiastic grin. “I guess so! Well, then. Shall we?”

“Of course,” said President Nishimoto, and if she was as confused as the Dean of Students and the graduating seniors in their party seemed to be, she had much more practice hiding it. “This way, ladies.”

Tony glanced up at the building, set her jaw, and followed the rest of the party into the building. It wasn’t pretty but had still been new enough to be featured in all the promotional materials Maria had given her daughter before Tony had sat down to write her admissions essay. “There’s a particle accelerator, a CYBER array donated by the Air Force, electron microscopes, even a telescope on the roof – “

“I can’t wait,” Tony had said, eyes alight as she flipped through the brochures touting the wonders of a science curriculum dedicated exclusively to educating women. It had been a heady time, imagining herself following in her mother’s footsteps, and as much as she’d come to love MIT, she’d never gotten over the pain of losing that chance to honor Maria instead of Howard for a change. 

“Steady, hon.” Steph had fallen back and brushed a light hand over Tony’s lower arm as they entered the lobby. “Remember what I said. This is your place as much as mine. More, since this wasn’t even on the drawing board in my day.”

“Don’t kill me, babe, but seriously? They should have left this one _on_ the drawing board,” muttered Tony. The interior had clearly been renovated and cleaned as part of the conversion from classrooms to galleries, but even with a gorgeous mosaic depicting Great Women of Science taking up most of a wall it still would win no beauty prize. She scowled at the heavy concrete pillars, the slit-like windows near the roof. “This is really, really – “

“A great example of the Brutalist School, which isn’t saying much,” said Steph, rolling her eyes at an architectural style that had been popular twenty years after she’d gone into the ice, and why did Tony always forget that she’d been at the head of her fine arts class at Cooper Union before she’d enlisted? “There’s worse in Boston. Their City Hall - ”

Tony did her best not to wince at the memory of Boston’s least attractive building and public plaza. “Been there, done that, mocked it every chance I got. I’ll stick with Gracie Mansion, thank you very much.”

Steph chuckled, low and throaty, and Tony bumped lightly against her shoulder. “Figured you would.”

The museum was surprisingly interesting and well laid out, and Tony had relaxed enough to be genuinely interested in the displays by the time they’d moved past the Foucault Pendulum to the exhibit dedicated to physics and astronomy. Prescott alumnae had won more than their share of awards over the years, and by the time they’d reached the Hall of Human Biology she was actually smiling at how many names she recognized thanks to the Prescott alums who'd graced Stark Industries’ agricultural and nuclear medicine subdivisions over the years.

“This gallery is devoted to medical advancements,” said one of the graduates as they entered a long, low room that had clearly been a lab of some sort. She was a tiny, dark-skinned Computer Science major with a lilting Haitian accent, and Tony had been so impressed by her poise and obvious intelligence that she’d sent Pepper a text reminding her to offer the girl an interview. “Sophonisba Prescott was a close friend of Elizabeth Blackwell, the first fully qualified woman doctor in the United States. Thanks to Dr. Blackwell, she always took a keen interest in preparing women to enter the medical field. Among our most notable alumnae are pioneering gynecologist Artemisia Robertson, microbiologist Sandra Kelley-Berwick, lung specialist Rachel Grosvenor - ”

“Grosvenor?” Steph interrupted. “As in the Grosvenor Technique for asthmatics?”

“That’s the one,” said the Haitian girl. She indicated a neatly laid out display of test tubes, flexible rubber bulbs, and glass syringes. “Her work in the 1920’s was instrumental to the development of the modern inhaler.“

“I’m familiar with it.” Steph moved past her to consider the photograph of a stern middle aged woman helping a frail teenage boy breathe into an array of tubing. She looked thoughtful as she read the exhibit card next to the photograph. “It kept me alive during the dust storm that hit New York in 1934. Never knew she was a Scottie.”

There was a distinct pause, and then President Nishimoto joined Steph at the display to point out all the original equipment and notes Rachel Grosvenor’s niece and nephews had donated to Prescott after her death. Tony hung back as most of their party joined in – Captain America might be part of the high school history curriculum but that didn’t keep people from being shocked when she talked about the Depression as if it had been yesterday – and drifted from exhibit to exhibit. 

Vaccines…cancer research…plastic surgery…obstetrics and gynecology…genetics research…the list of discoveries, surgical advances, and practical work by Prescott grads in medicine and human physiology was impressive, to say the least. Tony prided herself on her knowledge of women in science, and she hadn’t known half of this. No wonder Steph was so attached to her school, even if she’d spent her time here learning about war and not healing.

“Do you have any questions, Ms. Stark?” Another student, this one a curvy redhead with a soft Southern drawl, had appeared at her elbow. “I’ve been a docent here for the last two years so ask me anything.”

“So far, so good. I’d understand it even if I weren’t a genius with multiple scientific degrees, which I am.” Tony shoved her hands in her pockets – real pockets, even if Jan had raised a fuss about “ruining the lines” when Tony had insisted on having the trousers altered so she could carry her phone and her wallet and her keys without a foofy little purse – and examined vitrine after vitrine. “Tell your curators, good job.”

“Sure thing!” said the redhead, taking an extra second to pat her coppery waves into place. “We're working on a new exhibit, too. It’s pretty cool, some medical equipment from the 40’s that someone’s family donated last year.”

“Medical equipment?” Tony glanced back at Steph and the others, all of whom appeared to be engrossed by a vitrine devoted to a Prescott-trained virologist who’d worked on the HIV vaccine. She turned back to her guide with a little hitch of her shoulders. “What kind of medical equipment?”

The guide pursed her lips, one of which had been pierced with a slender silver wire. “That’s why it's not on display yet, actually. We’re not really sure what it's supposed to do. It was donated by Jacob Paxton, son of Esmé Reinstein Paxton ’47.”

“Jacob Paxton? The biomedical researcher?” Tony frowned. Why was that name familiar? “I didn’t know his mother was a biologist.”

“She was a German language and literature major, actually,” said the guide. She brushed past Tony on her way to a curtained alcove with a velvet rope strung across it. “We're still trying to write up the exhibit card, but based on family records it seems to be something Mrs. Paxton inherited from her father.”

The curtain, a heavy piece of dark red velvet that hung from thick brass rings strung along a heavy brass rod, swished faintly as the guide pulled it to the side. Tony whistled softly at the sight of the elaborate set up of nozzles, gears, control knobs, and what looked for all the word like a miniaturized reactor of some sort. “Her father owned this? What was he trying to do, develop Pym particles fifty years early?”

“Like I said, no one really knows. Dr. Reinstein evidently did some work for the War Department before Pearl Harbor, but he died suddenly in 1941 and most of his notes were lost. Dr. Paxton gave us everything his mother left him, though, so maybe something’ll turn up?”

War Department? Tony narrowed her eyes and leaned forward to get a better look. Yes, that definitely looked like a medical-grade radiation source – had it used cobalt? Radium? Something nastier? – and the nozzles were all attached to a squat mushroom-shaped bulb hanging above a circular platform. Whatever this was had likely been designed to administer a dose of something to a human subject, but whether it was an early attempt at a gamma knife or something similarly precise wasn’t clear. 

Reinstein…Reinstein…why was that name so familiar?

“Cap?” Tony pulled out her phone, tapped an icon of a flashlight, and held it over the device’s control panel to get a better look at the faded dials. “You ever heard of someone named Reinstein?”

“Einstein?” Steph shook her head, and Tony could have kicked herself for not remembering that pre-serum Steph had had so many sinus infections that her hearing was permanently damaged. “Professor Einstein ended up at Princeton, not Prescott.”

“Not Einstein.” Charts indicating radiation levels and dosage, a sagging blood pressure cuff, a gauge that said “Vita-Rays,” whatever the hell those were – 

“ _Reinstein_. With an – “

Vita-Rays. 

“ – ‘r’ – “

_Vita-Rays._

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Tony said under her breath, and for once she almost meant it. “It was here all along.”

“Ms. Stark? Are you all right?” The guide tugged at her arm, not that it really registered. “Ms. Stark?”

“Get Cap over here,” Tony managed, voice dropping to a husky whisper. 

“Are you all right?“

Tony stepped over the fat weighted rope that separated “Dr. Reinstein’s” Vita-Ray machine from the rest of the museum. “Captain America. _Now._ ”

“O – okay.” The girl hurried across the room as Tony shed her suit jacket, pushed up the sleeves of the silk blouse Janet had all but thrown at her with a muttered “it won’t kill you to wear something pretty for once, you know,” and crawled as far as she could under the control panel. The wiring was intact, thank you Carl Sagan, and if she could only figure out what the power source had been maybe, just maybe – “

“Tony? What are you doing?” 

Tony stuck her head out from under the control panel and beamed up at Steph. Her girlfriend, mouth half open in shock, stared back. “Seeing if this machine can be fixed, which looks more likely than not.”

“What – I don’t – “

“Steph.” The only thing that kept Tony from planting one on those delectable lips was the thought of how pissed Steph would be if Tony got cobwebs on her nice clean uniform. “Take a good, hard squint around you. Look familiar?”

Steph frowned but did as she was told, frown disappearing as she read the magic words. “That – it can’t be. There was only one, and the spy shot - “

“Wanna bet this was the backup in case the first one went blooey?” Tony yanked the blouse over her head, glad that Janet had at least agreed that yes, a support camisole would work with this particular ensemble. Maybe this way the damn thing would be salvageable. “Weren't you and your buddies supposed to be an entire unit of Amazons or something? Having a backup only makes sense, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it does.” Steph braced herself against the wall, blood draining from her face as she realized what this meant. “God. I can't believe I'd forgotten this, but Dr. Erskine did sometimes go by 'Reinstein' to throw the Germans off the scent. It didn't work for him in the end, but I heard something about his wife and kids keeping the name after he was killed.”

“Or, why his daughter Esmé went here under that name.” Tony waved one hand in the direction of her guide. “Can you get me some canned air? I need to see if any of the wiring's corroded.”

“Captain? Ms. Stark? What is going on?” President Nishimoto exclaimed as she hurried toward them. “Is everything all right?”

“Never better,” said Tony. She grinned at Steph, then gestured at the machine that had turned a sickly muralist into the symbol of freedom. “Cap? You want to do the honors?”

Steph laid a reverent hand on the Vita-Ray machine, then turned to the President, the guides, and the rest of the dignitaries. Her spine was the straightest it had been since that day at Ashokan. “President Nishimoto? If I had could have a moment alone, Ms. Stark and I have a favor to ask.”

“Of course, Captain. Whatever you need,” said the President, still slightly bewildered as Steph lead her aside. “I'd be happy to help, but – “

“What we need is cabling from this sweet little antique to a cyclotron, if you have one,“ Tony called from under the control panel.

“We do, over in the Nuclear Physics lab,” said the Haitian guide. Her face split into a huge, happy grin as she remembered her history lessons, or at least the most recent Captain America biopic. “We have a medical reactor, too. They're in another building, but we could run power cords or move this equipment.”

“Perfect, that’s fabulous, and if you’d like an internship, a summer job, hell, a _job-job_ at Stark Industries, it’s yours, no questions asked,” Tony said. “We’ll also need protective equipment for me, some form of shielding for the rest of this lab, and a couple of your best physics students.”

“I’ll call my partner,” said the Haitian guide, hitting the contact list on her phone and pulling up a number. “Babette? You free? Great, we need you over at the science museum right away - “

“Ms. Stark?” A woman who was a dean, or a provost, or something, gaped at her. “May I ask what you’re doing?”

“Fixing Captain America,” said Tony, and dove back under the control panel of the Vita-Ray machine.


	5. Epilogue

__

CAPTAIN AMERICA SPEAKS AT PRESCOTT COMMENCEMENT

”Never give up on yourselves or the world,” Sentinel of Liberty tells graduating seniors

PRESCOTT, MA – There wasn’t a cloud in the sky as Prescott College’s graduating class welcomed back one of their own.

Captain America arrived by parachute at the Memorial Quadrangle in time to join the commencement parade before delivering a stirring commencement address to 741 graduating seniors. Her obvious health, vigor, and strength belied recent rumors of ill health, including a series of photographs of a lookalike that appeared on the Internet only a day or two ago. 

The leader of the Avengers, who attended Prescott in 1940 and 1941 under her civilian name, Stephanie Rogers, was greeted by a standing ovation from the next generation of the “Long Blue Line,” as Prescott students have long been nicknamed for their distinctive blue hoods and graduation attire. The Sentinel of Liberty, in full uniform, doffed her trademark cowl and shield long enough to receive her honorary doctorate of laws, then strode to the podium to give her speech.

As one might expect from a woman who has been a pioneer and a symbol of democratic ideals for over seventy years, Captain America appealed to the graduates to strive always for fairness, justice, and equality in their personal and professional lives. “When I was here in 1941, we knew we were facing a battle for the future of liberty against totalitarianism in Europe. It was going to be a hard, long fight, and we all knew we would have to come together as a nation if we were going to win, men and women, black and white, Catholic and Jew, Asian and Native American and everything in between.”

She paused, looking out over the Memorial Quadrangle where she had received her captain's bars in the spring of 1941, then continued. “We never once abandoned our ideals, our commitment to democracy, even though we knew that America had so often fallen short of what she should be. We knew that things would have to change, and after the war those of us who could did our best to make sure that we lived up to the fancy words about equality and freedom.”

This veiled reference to the social conditions of the 1940's, and the role that Prescott alumnae played in changing them during the 1950's and 1960's, received another standing ovation, as did several other of Captain America's remarks. She ended her speech with a rousing call for students to remember that they should be “a perennial blessing to the country and to the world” and do their best to work for the common good.

Although some parents appeared uncomfortable with Captain America's words, the seniors themselves enthusiastically endorsed her message. “Prescott women were at the forefront of the Civil Rights Movement, Second Wave feminism, and Gay Liberation,” said graduate Alison Cao. “It all started with Captain America breaking the taboo on women in combat, and then coming back and fighting for all Americans – all humans \- no matter what. She's awesome, and I hope I can do half as much for the world as she has.”  


Other speakers at the commencement included senior class president Geneviere Alouidor, who spoke about the environmental, economic, and social challenges facing her generation. She received her own standing ovation, as well as a handshake and a heartfelt “good job” from Captain America herself.

Other recipients of honorary degrees included classical musician Pia Markos, science fiction writer Phillipa Sheldon, LGBT advocate Dana Milhouse, scientist Tanisha Stephenson-El, Senator Carey Albright, and technology guru and industrialist Tony Stark. Stark, who flew into the Memorial Quadrangle wearing her Ironclad armor, got a good laugh from the crowd when she insisted on being hooded in the suit, although she did remove her helmet first.

President Nishimoto concluded the ceremonies by urging the graduates to think always of others, not necessarily themselves, and to strive to live up the ideals of the college as exemplified by Captain America. The seniors then threw their caps into the air and headed for the Junior Quad for the traditional “diploma circle,” where they pass their newly minted degrees from hand to hand until they receive the one with their name on it. 

“I want to thank you all for inviting me home,” said Captain America at the end of her remarks. She glanced over toward her friend and fellow Avenger, then said with a smile, “I've seen and done a lot since the last time I was here, but you know what they always say. 'Once a Prescott girl, always a Prescott girl'!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, huge thanks to Shinkonokokoro, who did a great job with the art.
> 
> Second, the title is taken from a statement by Sophia Smith, founder of Smith College, in the documents establishing one of the first degree-granting colleges for women:
> 
> "I would have it be a perennial blessing to the nation and to the world."


End file.
